SPARKLE AND SHINE

Deltaville, VA
N 38º 18.46 | W 76º 24.78

All pretty and shiny and ready to go back in! It's been an idyllic boatyard stay, mild weather, no problems, good friends, short stay.

We're scheduled to drop in the water at 7:30 tomorrow morning, then off to Hampton! In and out in six days, a record for us.

A SHINER

Deltaville, VA
N 38º 18.46 | W 76º 24.78

Chip doing the scaffolding shuffle.

Polish. Paint. Wax.

BEFORE

DURING

After sanding, before painting.

CLEANING HER UP

Deltaville, VA
N 38º 18.46 | W 76º 24.78

Chip chipping barnacles.

On & Off Gel dispatching the mustache.

Boatyard worker sanding the bottom.

A BOAT OUT OF WATER

Deltaville, VA
N 38º 18.46 | W 76º 24.78

Anchored in Deltaville last night and, gasp, a squall blew over. What a year. No harm done. Love that anchor.

Picked the girl up out of the water this morning. We have stopped in Deltaville to give Cara Mia a bottom paint job and a hull wax, because we're getting her ready to put her up for sale. (If you are interested in buying a sweet and well-loved Island Packet 380, contact us!)

I've mentioned before that we're planning a new and exciting adventure. More about that SOON.

For those non-boaters among us, this is a travel lift. Two slings go under the hull, and then they lift it so the keel is above ground level. Then they drive the boat onto land and put it on jack stands.

For the record, this is an AFTER picture.

The bottom was slimy, and we had a good 'ICW mustache,' which is a brown stain from South Carolina waters. Lots of work to do!

And so begins what we hope will be only five days out of the water. Let's hope we don't find any problems! The boatyard is going to sand the bottom for us. We will do the rest of the work.

The weather is finally, finally smiling on us. Our mid-July weather calls for highs in the low 80s and lows in the 60s, perfect weather for working -- and sleeping without AC.

Strict haulout supervision provided by the crew of To Be.

BUSTING IT UP THE COAST

Deltaville, VA

Charleston to Deltaville in 89 hours over 8 days of travel up the ICW and into the Chesapeake. Whew.

Rain at Mile Hammock between Wilmington and Southport.

Close encounter on the way to Oriental.

Slogging through the cranky Albemarle, our home waters.

A joyful reunion with the crew of Anastasia in Hampton and To Be in Deltaville.

Hauling out of the water tomorrow. Now for some bottom paint and a hull wax!

Done with this well-worn guide for a while!
(The ICW ends/begins in Norfolk, now far south of us.)

PLODDING AMONGST FRIENDS

Coinjock, NC 36º21.06N | 75º56.8W

On a rising tide, we inched our way alone out of Zimmerman Marina Sunday morning in the skinniest of water, too antsy to wait for high tide. We skimmed through with millimeters to spare and turned south, thrilled to be moving again after 12 stationary weeks and hoping we remembered how to sail.

But we were not far down Mobjack Bay before all of us, we and Cara Mia, were sailing along in our old groove on a fresh breeze, a perfect fall day.

Jessie Marie sailing south on the Chesapeake.

As we sailed out of Mobjack Bay and into the Chesapeake Bay, as if by design, Cara Mia sailed effortlessly into place between friends, Jessie Marie, last seen in Manteo in July and Kajon, last seen in Miami in January.

Kajon sharing our patch of water.

Moments like this cannot be planned, but they must be celebrated. We cheered, took photos and shouted greetings, sailing along, side by each until we lost our breeze and motored on, Portsmouth-bound, where we would converge and then separate again, Kajon to the Dismal Swamp, Cara Mia and Jessie Marie to Coinjock, NC.

Kajon and Jessie, hand in hand.

Dale sailing his new dinghy Peony, nicknamed (by us) The Baby Jesus.

SOUTH TO SOMEWHERE

Portsmouth, VA 36º50.7N | 76º18W

East River of Mobjack Bay.

Fall makes me wistful, with its mushy, warm sunlight and trees dressed to kill, all wafting a reminder that cold weather and winter holidays are almost at hand. But for folks who don't even own winter clothing, fall means it's time to fly south like a bunch of cold duck.

And so, this morning, with the summer's chores done, we pulled in the lines, waved goodbye to Mobjack Bay, and sailed into the Chesapeake, the beginning of our second annual plod south.

Cara Mia is tricked out in a new outfit of beige canvas, complete with a screened-in cockpit. She has shiny wax on deck and on the hull, a new coat of bottom paint -- all planned. Unfortunately, she also has an unplanned and very expensive new shaft and cutlass bearing.

We've whiled away the last few months visiting friends and family around the country by plane, car, train, boat and bus, charging straight through an earthquake, a hurricane, flooding and a right wicked desert hailstorm.

On a visit to New Mexico I discovered that I'm a direct descendant of William "The Lion King" of Scotland and that my mother is surely and steadily succumbing to the heartbreaking symptoms of memory loss.

There is so much more to tell, but consider this an introduction to the backblogging I will be doing in the next few weeks, filling in the rich detail of four-and-a-half months near land.

After six weeks with the boat out of the water, we are afloat and underway, already happily falling into the pack of fellow cruisers and dear friends discovered on the ICW last year, our inaugural season.

What different people we seem this new October, more confident in our boat and increasingly secure in our ever-developing skills, utterly relaxed into the pace of life on the water, truly manifesting the Zen counsel of Ming that seemed so trite last October: I'll get there when I get there.

Along the way, we realized that we have pitiful imaginations. How else could we have so underestimated the rewards of life on the water? Now I can add one more thing unimaginable: a life without cruising.

It has already been said that in retrospect we will surely regret more the things we didn't do rather than those we did, and I'm thankful every day that cruising is duly checked off on our list.

And what next? As our friend Jen said about cruising a few months ago, "I don't think I can afford not to do this."

Onward. South to somewhere. 

HURRICANE UPDATE:

We and Cara Mia have weathered the storm in good order. She is out of the water in Mathews, Virginia, while we travel by land -- and update the blog! SCROLL DOWN to read all updates.

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THE IRENE HAULOUT

Zimmerman Marina, Mathews, VA 37º24.43N | 76º21.14W

It was dead calm at 7:30 a.m. when they knocked on the hull to tell us they were ready to haul us out of the water. Who would know there was a tempest headed our way?

I'd never seen a lift like this one: a platform that goes into the water underneath and pushes the boat up instead of lifting it on slings.

We were anxious to see the bottom, which was crystal clear when we left the Bahamas two months ago.

Not bad!

Blocked and chained. They lower the keel onto wooden blocks, and then brace the sides with those stands. Then, they chain the stands together from side to side going under the keel -- to keep the stands from slipping out if the wind rocks the boat.

And now, with the marina's work done, ours can begin.

Hurricane Irene: T minus 28 hours and counting.